Page 27 of Deja Who
ELEVEN
Archer, who had felt out of his depth the moment the weird little crying (or did he have allergies?) guy answered the door, was slow to follow. Shock had held him in place for those few seconds.
Nowhe could see it; now he knew why he had the nagging feeling he’d seen Leah somewhere. Somewhere? Everywhere: when she was little she had hawked everything from diapers to Dentyne, juice to jeans, back-to-school to prom fashions, and everything in between. The Girl Next Door, if the girl next door could take one look at you and tell you all the mistakes you made in the fifteenth century.
Her mother had done plenty of TV work, too, but never made it out of the B-list section ofEntertainment Weekly... which still rankled, clearly. Add that to the average American’s five-minute attention span for all things TV, it was no wonder he hadn’t recognized Nellie—or Leah—during his last visit.
Being in a room with Leah and her mother was unreal, to put it mildly. Her mother’s beauty, her affectations (pink satin robe with feathers? really?), exaggerated mid-Atlantic accent, and utter impatience with anything not related to her career comeback, up against Leah’s determination and fury.
It wasn’t a contest, and a good thing, because Leah would have won handily. Nellie was pale through conscious affectation and the avoidance of suntan booths; Leah was pale with anger. Her dark eyes were played up and made beautiful with makeup; Leah’s were beautiful because of the jaded grumpy soul lurking behind them. Nellie was a marble statue; Leah was the real thing. And speaking of the real thing...
“Weird to meet you,” he told Nellie, and raced out of the room after her daughter. He found her leaning against her electric shaver car, her forehead pillowed on her arms, crying.
Whoa.
The woman who coolly stabbed him (twice) three days ago was weeping in the driveway. Archer almost fell down.
“She never,” Leah sobbed as he approached. “She hasn’t ever cared. At all.”
What to say to that?There there? Don’t be silly, of course she does? Look on the bright side, maybe you’ll be murdered by the end of the week? Let’s turn that frown upside down, tiny dancer!
“She’s awful,” was the only thing he could come up with. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what living here was like.” Then, verrrry carefully, he reached out and gently pulled her into his arms. “Don’t cry, Leah. She’s not worth the effort to produce the tears. Plus your face will get puffy.”
That made her cry harder.Argh! Just what I was going for, except NO. Of all the times to make a bad joke.
“And this is ridiculous,” she said, sounding angry as well as devastated. She wriggled a little in his careful grasp, not as if she wanted to escape, but to call attention to their first... hug? Breakdown? “I haven’t cried in three years.I’ve only known you for three days, why am I looking to you for comfort? But here it is.” She sniffed and swallowed and said again, calmer, “Here it is.”
It was strange. It was like Leah was almost relieved to hear someone else say it. (Not the puffy face thing. The she’s awful thing.) Archer couldn’t imagine the guilt that came with resenting—even hating—the person you were supposed to love the most, the person who was supposed to loveyouthe most. How it felt to know that your mother saw you as a thing, a commodity to be used until you had nothing left, not for anyone else, not for you.
“Hey, you know what?” he said into her hair, which he was trying very hard not to kiss—she fit perfectly against him, he could rest his chin on the top of her head and sort of fold her into his arms and ohhhh boy if he didn’t break this embrace soon, she was going to realize just how much he wanted her.Are you carrying around a roll of Life Savers?Okay, maybe not Life Savers. A really big carrot? But why would he carry around a big carrot?I should definitely stop thinking about the carrot I don’t have in my pants and pay attention.“Let’s go have lunch with the mayor of Boston.”
That surprised her so much, she stopped crying. She even managed a smile. Which made the whole crazy side trip worth it—to him, at least. He wouldn’t presume to assume that Leah felt the same way.
